First Meeting In The Night
by TraceAce
Summary: Frodo's new to Bag End and doesn't wish to make friends; Samwise is a young boy who's shyness gets in the way of his ablity to socialize - will a random encounter under darkness bring them together? (F/S friendship, no slash)


**_First Meeting In The Night_**

****

By

TraceAce

**A/N:** I'm quite sure some things aren't perfect in this story – doesn't follow the book in a couple places – but I decided to put this up anyway because it's cute enough for me to like it. If you spot things wrong, you can tell me, but don't act like I'm an idiot, especially if it's about the landscape I describe – when I read books, I try to follow the story, not remember all the details of the area. With that said, please enjoy and if you want – rate it.

**Pairing:** F/S friendship

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any characters. Tolkien made 'em. He's a neat fellow, read his books!

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                "You've been wandering off again, haven't ye?"

                Two blue eyes regarded the older man, a pout apparent on his childish features. He was young and vibrant – a bundle of untapped energy – and his body seemed always active even in a still position. Bilbo saw so much of himself in his young cousin; from the determined, stubborn look of defiance he was now being given to the reason why he was scolding the lad. Frodo Baggins was turning out to have the Baggins trait of wanting to see the world flowing through him. Even when he came to him as an even younger one – when he was put under his care – Frodo showed an amazing sense of direction, wit, and mental strength for his age. Still, even though Bilbo was almost a little proud inwardly that perhaps Frodo would follow in his footsteps – literally and figuratively – he would not lax punishment when the boy did what he wasn't supposed to.

                "I didn', Bilbo, honest." He spoke with a soft-spoken yet strong voice. He tried to look innocent as possible, though Bilbo could see right through it.

                "You ain't lyin' to me, me lad, are ye?"

                "No, sir. Not I." He answered, looking down at his large feet.

                "The leaf in ye hair speaks other tales, Frodo." He plucked the single dead leaf from his curly mess of hair, extending it downward for the boy to look at. Instantly his face darkened and he looked down, shaking a little. Bilbo knew Frodo had already figured out he was caught.

                "I'm sorry, sir. I just had to go out there. I'm sorry."

                Bilbo almost felt the need to just forget the whole thing. Instead he decided to lessen the punishment he had made in his mind just a little. "You'll never learn, Frodo Baggins. Go to your room an' don't you come out until I says you can."

                "But sir…!" he protested instantly, stepping forward just a bit. "You cannot! Tonight is the party, I must…!"

                "Should have thought about that 'fore you disobeyed." He spoke evenly. Frodo let out a huge huff, stamping toward his room, shutting the door behind him angrily. If not for it's strong hinges, the closing might have even broken the small door off. Bilbo sighed, shaking his head, turning away.

                "Poor lad…" he sighed, going back to his work.

                Frodo laid in his bed most of the day. He had nothing else to do. Nothing in his room was as entertaining as the outside world. Frodo could spend hours exploring the Shire area, even though Bilbo has told him not to. It was hypocritical and wasn't fair in his mind – how could Bilbo command him to do as such when he himself has not only been around the Shire but many many miles away from it? He said that constantly and all his cousin had to say was that he started when he was older. That he was too young. That he needed to grow first.

                Frodo didn't talk much to people, either. He had nothing that kept him in the confines of Bag End. Ever since he had come to the quiet little area, he never tried to make friends with the other children. They didn't like him much. He was good with the adults, but the young ones like him…it just never clicked. The party he could have went to was to be his first since living there. It could have been his chance to find someone to talk to, but obviously not now.

                A sigh escaped his lips as he sat up, looking at the dark landscape out his window. Night had fallen and Bilbo had left to the party, leaving Frodo alone. He pushed himself off the bed, walking to the open window, peering out. He was going to turn away when a small movement caught his eye. His attention was drawn to it. He watched the moving thing run into the woods, followed by other shadowy forms. Frodo, perplexed, watched in silence as they disappeared into the woods near his hobbit home. His interest was peaked. Glancing about, he did all he could to simulate his body sleeping in bed with odds and ends. This was too great to not look at. He pulled a woolen robe on and exited through the window, zipping off after them, the backdrop of the bright lights of the party shining.

                He entered the area he saw the forms enter, silently glancing around. He wished he had thought to bring a torch of some kind, but then reminded himself he didn't want to be seen spying. He made due with his eyes and crept deeper into the forest. He did not particularly enjoy the dark, especially in the forests. Strange noises surrounded him. Rustling. Strange calls of animals. It made him nervous, but he pressed on. He questioned his judgment the more he continued. Just as he was going to turn back, his eyes stopped upon a light in the forest.

                "Get 'em!" a forceful though childish voice cried. The light started moving. Frodo instantly moved toward the light, careful not to be seen. The light stopped again, and when he got close enough he hid behind a tree and peered from there. There were three boys from his new town – he didn't know their names but knew their faces – and one held a torch. Before them, body pressed against the bark of a tree, was a young boy – probably younger then Frodo himself. He looked terrified, his wide brown eyes firmly set upon the boys. Frodo noted the sadistic looks on their faces instantly as he gazed back and forth. Where they truly triple teaming the poor boy? He wouldn't stand for that.

                His mind automatically started cranking as he noted mud from an earlier rain still wet on the ground. Taking his robe off, he dipped the long thing into the mud and, as quietly as he could, laid it against dead leaves on the ground. The leaves took to the mud and stuck there. The cloak, which was huge on the hobbit, dragged it lightly to an area near the tree and not a moment too soon. The boys were closing in.

                "Do not take a step more!" he said in the spookiest voice he could muster. In the shadow, he pulled the cloak over his head.

                The three boys stopped, looking around, trying to find the source of the voice.

                "Who's there!?" one demanded.

                "Leave my forest." He continued. "There will be no mercy for ones who don't listen!"

                He moved away when he saw one of the boys trying to find his location.

                "Maybe we should get out of here." Another spoke to the first. The boy glared toward the second.

                He suddenly rushed out, tackling one, still keeping the robe on. The other two scattered and ran off quickly, leaving the first alone to Frodo. Frodo threw the robe over his head, blinding him. The boy flailed around, fearful from all the noise, nearly crashing into a tree as he ran into the darkness, probably falling all the screaming. He scooped up the torch that was dropped in the fray and stamped out the little fire it started. He wiped his slightly grubby face. He turned to see the boy by the tree had sunk down and hid his face, as though that would somehow make all the things he was fearing leave. Frodo approached cautiously, though he knew he ought to get them out of their fast. It might be likely they would return if they found out it had been a hoax.

                He touched the boy's shoulder and he recoiled, smacking himself right into the tree again.

                "It's okay, it's okay." He said as soothingly as possible. "I'm friend, not foe."

                The boy – definitely younger then Frodo at this close prospective – took his chubby hands off his face, showing tear-stained cheeks and more tears rolling down them. His body was shaking hard and his breathing was quick and fast, as though he was hyperventilating.

                "I-I-I-I'm sorry, sir. I-I'm sorry. P-Please don't hurt me." He spoke so quickly and with so much stuttering that Frodo could hardly understand him.

                "I'm not going to hurt you." He spoke, shaking his head.

                "Y-You're not? Truly, sir?" he spoke, looking up with almost hauntingly trusting eyes.

                "What's going on here? Why were they chasing you?" he inquired, eyeing him.

                "I-I don't know, sir. Honestly, I don't. T-They said that I was lookin' at something wrong. I-I didn't know you could look at something' wrong, sir. N-No one told me what kind of lookin' is right or wrong. T-They chased me here an'…they were gonna hurt me, sir." His shaking made his voice quiver. Tears fell again. Frodo felt sorry for him.

                "Come, let's get you out of here." He stated, offering his free hand. The younger hobbit looked at him in a strange glance of wonder. He slowly took it, allowing Frodo to pull his form up. His quaking had ebbed a little. A sad look remained on his features as he dusted himself off slowly.

                Frodo motioned for him to follow, and the boy did – closely. Very closely. It took about five minutes to get out of the forest and no one was in sight. Frodo put the torch in a nearby well, the light instantly extinguishing as it hit the water below. Now safely near his house, he turned to the one he found in the forest, who still, even in the darkness, looked pale.

                "T-Thank you, sir. You saved me." He instantly gushed. "I-I didn't know what to do. I-I thought I was gonna die, sir…"

                "…Why do you keep calling me sir?" Frodo asked, almost amused at the other hobbit's actions.

                "I-I'm terribly sorry! Does that offend you? I didn't mean it!" he nearly shouted. Frodo groaned.

                "Peace, friend. It's okay. Call me Frodo." He introduced himself.

                "Y-yes, Mister Frodo!" he exclaimed.

                "Just Fro…" he trailed off, seeing the expression he got from him. He sighed and decided to leave well enough alone. "What's your name?"

                "Samwise Gamgee!" he said with much pride. "P-People call me Sam, though. But you can call me whatever you want. I don't mind at all, Mister Frodo!"

                "Sam will do." He spoke, bemused at Sam's strange manner of actions. "You okay now?"

                "Thanks to you, Mister Frodo!" He said, wiping his cheeks that were still most likely stained with all the crying he had been doing.

                Frodo looked up, noting the moon's position and the sudden stillness of the area. The party had to be over. This worried him – that meant his cousin had probably returned home and perhaps saw through his crude attempt to recreate his sleeping form. "I must go now – I'm not supposed to be out. You better go find your family."

                "Oh, Mister Frodo! What shall I do? I didn't come with my family – I came by myself – and it seems everyone has left without me!"

                It indeed seemed so as his eyes shifted to where Sam was looking. The area seemed devoid of life. Frodo knew he couldn't just leave him out there to walk alone – even he wouldn't do so, and Sam was younger then he. With that conclusion made, Frodo did the first thing that came to his mind.

                "Come, Sam. You may stay with us tonight."

                The boy's features brightened considerably at the aspect, especially when he faced the prospect of walking in the dark woods to his home alone. "Really, Mister Frodo?"

                "There is no other choice." He started walking and the hobbit instantly followed, falling in step. It was a quick, brisk walk, mostly because Frodo half ran – he hoped perhaps he would get back before Bilbo did. "You need to stay hidden. Bilbo will have my head if he finds someone with me. I was supposed to stay in today as a punishment."

                "Y-Yes Mister Frodo. I'll be silent." He swore. He peeked into the window, checking to see if Bilbo was there. He wasn't, so he pulled himself in through the window. He outstretched his hand and pulled Sam in as well. He crashed to the ground, making a bump that Frodo just knew Bilbo heard. He heard footsteps.

                "Hide behind the bed. Lie down, quickly!" he hissed as he jumped into bed. He pulled the covers up over his body and heard Sam nearly trip into his desired position. Frodo hoped the shadows would cloak Sam from sight. The door creaked open and out of the small slit of his eyelid that he kept open he saw his cousin walking in. He moved to the bed and Frodo close his eyes tightly, trying not to tense up and make it obvious he wasn't asleep. Bilbo lingered for a moment before he heard the footsteps retreating and the door closed slowly. Both stayed silent for a few minutes until it was obvious Bilbo was gone.

                Frodo sat up and looked down, seeing Sam had moved to a position that he probably felt made him appear as small as possible. "Sam!"

                "D-Did I do good, Mister Frodo?" he asked, sitting up cautiously.

                "Apparently so." He mused. "Bilbo didn't see you. But when you don't have the cover of darkness…"

                "Mister Frodo, I can leave if you wish…" he trailed off, though he didn't seem very happy at the thought.

                "No no, I just need someplace for you to hide…" he glanced around and saw nothing that could be a good area to hide in. "…Or not."

                "I do not wish to get you in trouble, Mister…"

                "Well, if you can't stay here, I'll just have to take you to your home." Frodo decided. He glanced at the door and shook his head. "Bilbo will understand…"

                "Mister Frodo, I can't ask you to do that…" he trailed off.

                "Let's make haste, Sam. Perhaps my absence will go unnoticed."

                Sam sighed – he probably figured he wasn't going to win the argument. Frodo yet again tried to make it seem as though he was still in bed, and motioned for Sam to follow. In seconds, they were out of the room and onto the dirt road.  Though Frodo never heard of Sam himself, he had heard of the Gamgees. He knew they lived on the other side of Bag End, which was quite a walk even though the town was small. Sam obviously knew the way too – he timidly led on, looking back at Frodo quite a few times as he went. It had to be comforting to him to have someone with him. He still didn't know the whole story of why they were chasing him, but he also didn't wish to bring back any memories of earlier. He finally seemed to calm down; he didn't want to start it up again.

                "Beggin' your pardon, Mister Frodo…" he turned to him. "But I realized I never saw you around here."

                "I came to Bag End not so long ago…and I haven't really been so very social…my parents…they…" he looked down. Sam must have noticed because he spoke up right afterwards.

                "I'm sorry, Mister Frodo. I didn't mean to bring up any…"

                "It's fine, Sam." He shook his head. "I'm over it."

                The hobbits continued on in silence, their footsteps the only noise piercing the stillness. When they were nearly half way, Frodo could not contain himself from speaking any longer.

                "I have never seen you either. I've heard of your father from Bilbo – but I never knew he had a son." He explained.

                "I-I tend to shy away from others. T-They always call me names and push me around. My father…h-he made me go to the party today…he said 'Samwise m'boy, you need to get out there and make friends. Look at your brothers, Sam, they're not so quiet!'. So I went 'coz he wanted me too…a-and they saw me and made sure to start towards me. An' I did what my father always said – tried to stand up for myself, and it got them even angrier…I guess I'm just not cut out to have friends, I suppose."

                Frodo continued to feel a welling of pity forming at the pit of his stomach. At least Frodo wasn't at all made fun of – he chose not to speak to others. He, without even thinking, put a hand on the younger hobbit's shoulder. Sam looked at him, his face masked with surprise. "I think we'll get along well, Sam, if you'll have me as a friend."

                They had stopped walking, and Sam just stared at Frodo for a moment, silent. Suddenly he found the young hobbits arms around his waist – a hug – and Frodo couldn't help but feel touched. Here was someone as isolated as he felt, someone that understood where he was coming from. He hugged back, comforting the poor boy. When Sam let go, he noticed a few stray tears running down his chubby cheeks again, but he quickly wiped them away.

                "You'll really be my friend?" he asked.

                "I believe it would benefit the both of us." He smiled. "I would be honored to be your friend."

                On the happy note, they continued their way to the Gamgee household. Once they reached there, the two bid each other farewell and Frodo hastily got back to his home. Frodo was pleasantly surprised the home was nearer to his home then he thought – basically just down the hill from his own, but it was still a bit of a walk. Either way, it seemed that Bilbo had gone to sleep, and it seemed he had gotten away with it. Frodo moved the things off his sleeping area and flopped onto the bed, pulling the covers up over him. He sighed contently and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

                Morning came, and Frodo – for obvious reasons – slept late. When he did wake up, he sleepily stood up, walking into the inner parts of Bilbo's home. He was out of sight until he reached the room where the fireplace was – there he was sitting by an open window, holding something. Frodo moved closer and Bilbo looked at him. The frown said it all. The younger Baggins simply gulped quietly as Bilbo stood up, holding out the thing he was holding – his soiled cloak that he threw over one of the boys the night before.

                "Frodo, this was brought back today."

                He silently took it, eyeing his cousin nervously.

                "He told me his son came running in, claiming that thing attacked him. Isn't that odd…?"

                Frodo looked at his feet, trying to think of an excuse – any excuse.

                "Beggin' your pardon, sir!"

                The voice caused both to look up. Bilbo turned around to see Sam outside the window.  Frodo stared at the boy, shocked. What was he doing there?

                "Ah, you must be the new gardener taking the place of the one before. Samwise, was it? One of Gamgee's lads?"

                "That's me, sir. I…I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but I couldn't help but overhear."

                Sam glanced over toward Frodo, who continued to give his new friend a confused look.

                "You see, sir, I took that cloak. The boys…they attacked me…I made a lie and scared them off. I-I didn't mean to take it, but I found it on the ground and it was quite cold."

                "…I see." Bilbo seemed to consider this new development. "Well, you do not seem to be a lad who would lie – if it 'twas in self-defense, I cannot be mad at you. However, you did take my cousin's cloak…"

                "It's okay." Frodo instantly spoke up. "I left it out for any to take. And he was good enough to admit his mistakes…Bilbo, leave him be."

                "Well then, m'lad, that's that! Problem solved." Bilbo smiled. "Frodo, you can leave now for being so well behaved yesterday."

                And he did leave – but only walked to where Sam was sitting, planting small flowers into the garden by his home. Frodo kneeled down next to the younger hobbit. Sam looked toward him, questioningly.

                "Can I help?" He asked, strangely in a shy manner.

                "You want to?" Sam asked, a bit surprised.

                "We're friends now. I'll make a deal. You teach me gardening and I'll teach you the areas away from Bag End."

                Sam's small smile widened and he nodded his head. "…Okay, Mister Frodo. If you wish."

                That day marked the first day of what turned out to be a legendary friendship, one people would speak of for many many ages.


End file.
